


the street's the place to go

by hallaburger



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, Human AU, M/M, guys this is just filthy, magic mike au, strip club au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-01
Updated: 2018-07-31
Packaged: 2019-06-19 20:34:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15518055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hallaburger/pseuds/hallaburger
Summary: "What a warm welcome back, you beautiful people! And speaking of beautiful people, it looks like y’all noticed our newest addition to the party!”What it says on the tin.





	1. Markus

**Author's Note:**

> guys.
> 
>  
> 
> guys this is just... so filthy. it's also the fastest i've banged out this much fic in a while. i didn't want to start out in this fandom this way but... the boys had other plans, i guess. 
> 
> shout outs to Mal and Ariel for flailing with me and watching me write these first two chapters, and shout out to Roomba Mom just 'cause.
> 
> yeah the fuckin' title's from "it's raining men" fuckin fight me i'm a tired boy

The club is thrumming, full to bursting, and while this isn’t exactly surprising for a Friday night in June, Markus is feeling the energy tonight more than he has in months. It’s just a few minutes shy of nine P.M., when their feature show starts, and he’s almost vibrating with adrenaline. He makes his rounds through the backstage area, where the guys are all suiting up--and down--for the opening number. Simon, the tall, square-jawed blond, is spritzing his leather accoutrements with a little light oil to make them shine under the stage lights. Daniel, who could be Simon’s twin for how similar their builds and hair color are, adds a little more spray to hold his hair in place. Josh is stretching on the floor, he’s got a really impressive aerial routine towards the middle of the show that he has to limber up for. North, their headlining drag king, adjusts their vest and tape--in everyday life, they’re fairly well-endowed, but they’ve perfected the art of tape binding and chest makeup. Markus loves these guys, and he’s so hyped to get everybody back on stage tonight.

He notices the new kid--a baby-faced and tight-assed brunet named Connor--going over the moves in minute gestures as he watches himself in the mirror to check for mistakes. He’s adorable, his earbuds tucked in and his ass cheeks just barely peeking out from around the tiny leather boy shorts that make up the team’s costume for the opening act. Adorable. That’s what had drawn Markus to him in the first place--he was cute as sin, and had a filthy mouth on him once he got going. Elijah, the club’s manager, had introduced them three months ago, when the club started floundering and they needed to find a way of boosting revenue, and fast, or they were going to lose some serious capital, which would also mean losing serious jobs. Elijah had approached Markus with a proposition--freshen up the lineup, including giving North more stage time, and adding a recent college grad with moves and more game than he had any right to. Markus had thought Connor would be an awkward, blushing baby that first time he asked to see what he could do. Shit, he’d been super fucking wrong. Elijah had to practically scrape Markus’s jaw off the floor. Even raw, the kid had talent, and with practice and a little guidance, he’s flowered and Markus is real excited to see how tonight, his first performance for a real, paying audience, goes for the kid.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he says, stepping up behind Connor so he can see his reflection in the mirror. Connor takes out one earbud and Markus pats his bare shoulder, grinning. “Just have fun out there. The ladies’ll take care of the rest.”

Connor huffs out a laugh. “That’s what I’m worried about,” he teases. “Really, though. Just...pre-show jitters. I’ll be fine.”

“You better be,” Markus replies, clapping him on the back and heading over to finish getting his layers on. “Our future is riding on your ass.”

“Hope it’s using a condom,” Connor calls back, drawing hearty laughs from some of the guys.

Kara, their stage manager and all-around helper pixie, pokes her head out back and tugs the mouthpiece of her headset out of the way of her mouth. “Five to places, guys.”

“Love you, five!” North calls back with a wink.

Kara rolls her eyes and disappears again.

Markus claps and the guys gather around, fixing each other’s vests and jackets and tear-away pants. Once everyone is satisfied, they turn their attention to Markus, who holds his hat against his chest.

“Alright, guys. Big night. We’re back in it, and we’re gonna make them remember why they come to us,” he says.

“And _for_ us,” Josh adds with a cheeky grin. The guys laugh.

“Let’s give it our all out there, earn those tips, and make ‘em beg for it. And let’s say a quick one for the Kid on his virgin night,” Markus adds, looking pointedly at Connor. The group cheers and makes jerking off motions in Connor’s direction, which makes color rise in his cheeks. _Fuck, they are gonna eat him up,_ Markus thinks with a grin.

Kara’s back, and she herds them along into the wings as they all put their hats on and double-check their snaps and buttons. “Places, everybody,” she says before stealing a kiss from North as they head towards the stage. As they wait for the lights to dim, Markus hears Traci’s voice pipe through the speakers. _“Ladies, gentlemen, and those still undecided! You’ve waited and been oh-so good for us, and you’ve earned something real nice,”_ Traci purrs through the mic. She’s always been a real good hype man. She knows how to make a crowd drool for it. _“Without further ado, here’s your main event, your main attraction--”_

The roar that goes up from the crowd is almost deafening in that split second before the heavy bass pounds through the speakers and they move onstage to find their marks in the short blackout. The lights pulse along with the beat, silhouetting them in flashes as the intro builds. Traci doubles as their lighting tech and designer, and she’s really good at what she does. The lights burst up as the beat drops, and the crowd goes wild. The six of them are in total sync, tighter than they’ve been in rehearsals all week, and in the back of his brain, his inner director takes a second to swell with pride in each of them. Their trenchcoats tear off in unison, and there’s a chorus of whoops from the audience. Hips swirl in exquisite time with the music, and they’re hitting their turns and pivots with the snap he’s tried to coax out of them for weeks. He moves forward for his short solo, and the spectators closest to the catwalk are practically climbing each other to get closer to him. He sinks to his knees, tearing off the little shorts to reveal an even tinier thong that leaves so, _so_ little to the imagination, and they scream for him. It’s such a pure high, and Markus knows he could never live without this rush. Behind him, he knows North is bending Daniel in half at the waist at stage right, grinding against him as he collects a few tips in his mouth ( _“okay, it’s not my favorite thing, but it sure gets them warmed up for later, so somebody’s gotta do it, I guess”_ ). Stage left, Simon is down in the pit doing drive-bys, and Connor’s working the babyface angle, batting those long eyelashes at cougars and college girls alike as he tucks his thumbs in the string waistband at his hips, teasing. Josh is up on the trapeze, showing off the thick muscles in his ass, thighs, and abs as he hints at what he’ll be doing in his solo later. Two minutes and a thong full of bills later, the crowd hooting and wailing and applauding so hard they’re practically shaking the building, Markus brings up the rear as the crew makes their way backstage for the changeover. He gives everybody’s ass a smack as he passes by, a congratulations on a great opening number, and they start gearing up for their next bits. There’s about fifteen seconds of transition music, and then Markus hears the [sound effect] through the speakers before Traci speaks again.

_“What a warm welcome back, you beautiful people! And speaking of beautiful people, it looks like y’all noticed our newest addition to the party!”_ There’s a chorus of wolf whistles, and Markus grins as Connor blushes from beside him, where he’s traded his black leather thong for a lacy red one, and is tugging a pair of cutoff jean shorts over his hips. _“That’s what I thought, you dirty, dirty bastards! Well, he noticed you, too, and he’d like to introduce himself. Let’s give a big, warm Detroit welcome to the Kid!”_

Connor trots past Markus, who gives him a high five as he hurries by. Oh yeah. This boy is gonna be fine.


	2. Connor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _He feels the bass line in his chest, and even though the lights flash in and out of his eyes, he does what he does best--makes eye contact._
> 
> Connor's virgin night; he's good at dancing but shit at flirting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you lucky duckos
> 
> two whole chapters already, enjoy it while it lasts
> 
> hopefully more to come by Friday. i will update as regularly as i am able.

Traci had wanted to play “Like a Virgin” for his virgin night, but Connor had stomped that out real fast. 

He’s been planning this routine since Elijah approached him with the suggestion that he audition for Markus. That had been the biggest shock of his life since being accepted to the U of M law program. Of course, it was a shock he approached with as much interest and curiosity as U of M. He’s always been adaptable, always liked a challenge. So when Elijah Kamski, who was somewhere firmly in that grey territory between acquaintance and friend, came to him and said the director and dance captain at the club he managed was looking for some fresh meat, Connor agreed before he even knew the stipulations. And then, in the rehearsal studio, Markus had put him on the spot and asked to see what he could do, and he’d given it just as much effort as his school interview, and Markus had offered him the spot then and there. So he’s had this brewing in the back of his head for months, and now he’s fine-tuned it and polished it and rehearsed so hard he’s gonna need to buy stock in joint supplement pills, and it’s ready to show the world. 

He walks onstage in his white t-shirt and sweatpants, looking every bit the naive college boy he only sort of is, and once he’s center stage, Traci hits the music. 

Ginuwine floods the speakers, those opening notes tugging at Connor’s shoulders and hip bones like marionette strings. He’s glad for the little, subtle Bluetooth earpiece that pipes the music right to him so he can stay on tempo. He feels the bass line in his chest, and even though the lights flash in and out of his eyes, he does what he does best--makes eye contact. 

Markus had commented on that after his audition, that he was really impressed with the way Connor didn’t seem to shy away from that fuck-me gaze most performers took ages to train into themselves. “Thanks,” Connor had replied with a chuckle, “I had a professor tell me I had to sit further back in class because it made him uncomfortable. It’s just...kind of the way I look.” 

That isn’t to say he doesn’t play it up a little bit for the audience. He’s mastered that heavy-lidded, through-the-eyelashes look that’s earned him more than one really good lay. Markus told him it would be good for tips. He’s just here to have a good time. 

The song continues and he crawls down the catwalk, tearing the t-shirt up the middle to a wild roar of cheers. Immediately, cash is shoved into his sweatpants--he’ll have to make sure Kara double-checks to make sure none of his tips get lost--and he leans back, thrusting his hips in time with the music as the stage lights bathe his chest in pale lavender light. He rolls his spine back up and forward until he’s on hands and knees, and he presses forward into the crowd to steal a kiss on the cheek of a cute, curly-haired girl who screams and shoves a twenty against his chest. He grins and bites his lip, tucking it down in the strap of his thong before kneeling up. 

As he slides his thumbs into the waistband of the sweatpants, he notices someone he hadn’t before, and it’s enough to make him almost-- _ almost _ \--miss a beat. There’s a table towards the back that he can see through the cluster of heads in front of him. Three guys are seated there, two of whom are too focused on each other to be paying much attention to the show. The third is an older guy, with grey hair tucked behind his ear and a beard that could probably use some grooming. Something about him makes Connor’s dick twitch in the lacy thong he’s slowly revealing. He’s actually  _ watching _ , which catches Connor maybe a little more off-guard than he thinks it should. He’s watching Connor as though nothing else has ever deserved his attention. Connor can’t make out a ton of detail about his face, due to the lights and the bouncing and screaming people in front of him, but it’s a face he’s gonna look for as soon as he’s off. 

Before he realizes how far into the dance he’s gotten simply on auto-pilot, he’s swinging his sweatpants and tossing them upstage, showing off the now-tight red thong. He drops into a push-up stance for his big finish, rolling his hips down and snapping them forward like he’s humping the stage. More screams, more dollar bills, and he wishes he could see the older guy at this angle, too, but he can’t, so he focuses on a bottle-blonde whose face gets redder by the second. He gives her a grin and a wink with his last thrust before jumping to his feet and bowing as the music fades out. 

_ “Ain’t he a peach, folks? The rest of him isn’t too bad, either! Give it up for the Kid!” _

Connor grabs his sweatpants and jogs offstage, sweaty and riding the high of his first real performance. 

“How’d it go?” Markus asks as he passes by.

Connor grins at him, face and chest flushed. “Real good. Thanks, man. I definitely warmed ‘em up for the rest of you.”

Markus laughs and shakes his head. “Baby, you had them blowing their load and begging for more, don’t even fucking lie.” 

Connor just laughs and waves him off as he heads back to wipe himself down. He’s in a trio with Markus and Josh after North’s solo in the middle, and then he’s part of the group closing number, but the hard part is done for tonight. He pops his earbuds in and grabs a hand towel out of the bin, heading to the backstage bathroom to run it under the sink before scrubbing off the sweat that’s cooling in sticky patches over his chest and belly and in the small of his back. Once he’s got the worst of it off, he shrugs on a hoodie and leggings. Markus’s rule for show nights is that when they’ve got a break, they can go out to the bar--but water only. So he heads out, head down so he doesn’t draw attention away from the stage, where Simon’s currently doing his “Gimme More” routine, complete with black leather halter top. 

“You really fucked ‘em up out there, Con,” Carl chuckles as he passes Connor a glass of water. “We’ll be cleaning jizz off the furniture for days.”

Connor grins, taking a long drink. “As if you clean anything that isn’t in your domain. Thanks, though. I’m glad it went well.”

Carl winks at him. “So, you bisexual, or…?”

“Get outta here, you dirty old man,” Connor laughs. He swallows another sip and sets his glass down. “Oh, speaking of dirty old men,” he says, and looks pointedly over his shoulder in the direction of the guy he saw earlier. He’s still there, with his friends (who are still making out), but he definitely seems like he’s just watching for the sake of watching now. Maybe Connor had imagined the enthralled expression earlier. “What’s Beardy over there drinking?”

Carl leans forward a little so he can see. “Oh, the detective? Cheap whiskey. At least, that’s what he tried to order before his friend bought two rounds of beers and insisted he have one.”

Connor lifts his eyebrows. “Detective? How’d you know?”

Carl laughs, raising his eyebrows. “Idiot forgot to take his badge off his belt before coming in. Only reason I know they weren’t after me is because his buddies were already three sheets to the wind, and he didn’t much give me the time of day.” 

Connor looks over his shoulder again, this time with new eyes. So his mystery man is a detective. That definitely makes things a little more interesting. “Hey, whatever he was gonna order, can you fill it for him, on me?” Connor asks, still watching the man watch the show. “If he asks, tell him it’s from…” A secret admirer? Eugh. The Kid? Too obvious. “...some guy named Connor.” Perfect. 

Carl chuckles again, turning to grab a highball glass off the shelf. “You’re pretty, but you’re fuckin’ dumb. Go get your ass back there before you miss your next number.”

Connor grins and finishes his water. He gets up to head backstage, but not before looking over at his detective one more time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> my twitter was made for shouting. @hallaburger there and on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> so idk if this is gonna grow giant meaty legs but... 
> 
> come yell at me gently? @hallaburger on twitter and tumblr.


End file.
